


Last Blind Date

by evilxpanda_stan



Category: Emma Swan - Fandom, Evil Regals, Once Upon A Time - Fandom, Regina Mills - Fandom, SwanQueen - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe, Blind Date, Completed, Cute, Domestic, F/F, Fantasy, Fluff, Humor, LGBT Character, Love, Romance, To Read, date, drunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:56:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25889965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evilxpanda_stan/pseuds/evilxpanda_stan
Summary: Emma Swan is a series regular for blind dates at this restaurant and always get a little too tipsy. She ends up having a better time when she ends up at the wrong table with Regina Mills-food critic.
Relationships: Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Emma Swan
Comments: 19
Kudos: 211





	Last Blind Date

A subtle throb annoys her temple causing a disgruntled groan once the fluorescent lights hit her eyes. She forgot how much alcohol consumption occurs during stupid blind dates. There is the warm up shot before leaving the apartment, the martini waiting at the bar, and then the shared bottle of wine during dinner. Halfway through the date all the drinks started to overwhelm her bladder. It is not her first time here, but the restaurant’s bathroom is perhaps the most memorable experience. Marble covers the ceilings, sinks, even the tiles. Normally the décor induces a bit of salvation but with her drunkenness the brightness overpowers. The bathroom attendant frequently tends with similar behavior from this particular patron too.

“Emma. Enjoying your evening?”

Emma sports a half drunk half delighted expression upon hearing her name. “Archie! You’re the only man I ever want to surprise me in the bathroom.”

A soft blush creeps on the man’s face despite his best efforts. “Why thank you, Miss Swan. Another blind date?” He rightly presumes because of Emma’s drunken stupor. Second dates are a rare occurrence.

“Unfortunately. But he is a sweet guy. And funny.”

Emma droopily stares into her reflection. She opted for a bare face. Today her freckles made a prominent appearance which added some youthful innocence. The alcohol contributed to her pink cheeks and New York City in the summer takes credit for the dewy look. She can and has looked worse. 

“Water?”

“Hmm?” She snaps out of her staring contest with the reflection, noticing Archie offering a small bottle of water. “Yes. Let me, uh, you know?”

Archie chuckles, fully understanding. “Yes, Miss Swan. I will step out.”

She bounces with excitement then relieves herself with quickness—surprising for someone tipsy. Her and Archie are always in-sync, by the time she exits the stall, he pops back into the bathroom.  
“  
Should we talk?” Archie rests a hand on Emma’s shoulder.

“No. No. I’m fine. Summertime Emma is different from Professor Emma Swan. I’m letting loose. Even more.” She quickly adds because Archie did see her drunk cry. Once her hands are well washed and moisturized, Emma relaxes enough to finish the rest of her date. The throbbing subsides a bit, though the room is spinning.   
Food fully occupies Emma’s thoughts and actions heading towards her table. She takes one turn too soon, sliding into the fourth booth. Between the same clothing booths and Emma’s inebriation, the woman is unaware of her mistaken placement.

“Oh great! The food came. I’m starving.” Emma inhales the numerous aromas floating over the table. Her stomach rumbles loudly then eyes fall on a plate of mashed potatoes. “I don’t remember ordering mashed potatoes. But mind if I try?”

“Be my guest. There’s enough food for five people.” A voice that is most certainly not male responds smoothly.

Emma, dedicated to tasting the dish, processes the female voice moments before her fork touches the plate. “Wait.” She painstakingly trails her eyes upwards; the blush traveling further up her neck. Somehow her date swapped gender. She is perhaps the most beautiful woman Emma’s ever laid eyes on. Her brunette hair hugs the nape of her neck, accentuating her prominent facial features. The mysterious woman’s makeup precisely done produces a hint of jealousy for Emma. And her suit. This suit. With the light hitting the fabric she assumes its velvet and the deep cut cleavage leaves her mouth salivating.

“O-oh. Oh my gosh.” The embarrassment further setting in. Despite her best attempts, Emma clumsily pushes the chair out, almost tumbling over her own feet. “I am so sorry. I-wow. How embarrassing.” She cannot gather decent footing and continues tripping over herself.

The woman stares in pure amusement. Of course, when the blonde ever-so boldly sat across from her— it made her double take. Dining alone comes naturally as her occupation requires constant eating out. Benefits and some cons of venturing into food critiquing. So, she wondered why a fairly attractive and inebriated woman planted down. Yet the critic beyond intrigued wishes her clumsy friend might settle since she wishes to extend an invitation. Due to current circumstances, the woman decides speaking up now is the best option.

“You should have the mashed potatoes.”

All it takes is a smile. Emma cannot believe how weak she is. Maybe it’s the alcohol. Might explain why her stomach dropped upon witnessing two rows of perfect white teeth and a lip scar that casted a spell on Emma. Graham will understand. If a beautiful woman approached him with free food, he’d accept with swiftness. Convincing herself is the easy part, the hard part—not embarrassing herself.

“How can I say no?” Emma manages entering the booth without any incidents. A sense of deja-vu floods over her as she reaches with the same fork for the mashed potatoes. What did she expect but delicious flavors coating her tongue? “Wow. Either I’m drunker than expected or those are the best mashed potatoes I’ve had.”

“Oh really? Is that a quote?” There’s a hint of teasing sprinkled in those questions. A dinner guest is much appreciated and secretly much needed.

Emma’s nose scrunch upwards as she contemplates. “Well, no. I say a lot of things. But it is good. You should try some.”

“I will. Though I am not sure I will start with the potatoes.”

“Oh? Do you have some weird eating thing?”

“Weird eating thing? You’ll have to explain, dear.”

“Like…some people can’t have their foods touch on a plate. Or no foods crossing in the mouth either. So, is it like that? Or are you some other type of weird?” Emma is self-diagnosed with foot in mouth syndrome. A rare occasion a person finds it endearing. She cannot help it though. Instead she sips on the spare glass of water.

Indeed, Emma’s questions are abrasive, yet they are not received ill-mannered. Her new date harbors no animosity, but she cannot resist light-hearted banter. “Certain people might be insulted—calling those habits weird.”

Emma plays it cool in response, “Are you those people?”

“No. You should be more careful with how you phrase things.”

“I’d like to know your name before you start offering more unsolicited advice. If that’s how we are kicking things off.”

The woman extends a formal hand. “Regina Mills. Nice to meet you.”

Regina Mills? Even the name mesmerizes Emma. She can already feel her tongue itching to repeat it back. But she fears, once she starts, it’ll become impossible to stop. “Your mother must’ve had high hopes for you. Regina means queen in Latin.”

“How’d you know that?” Regina already knows about the translation, but she is surprised her date pulled that token of knowledge.

Emma spots Regina’s wonder before the woman can mask it. A sense of pride begets her, and she starts feeling more relaxed with the situation. “Ha. I’m more than a pretty face, Regina Mills.” Okay, she could not resist.

“How bold. Not only did you assume I thought you were attractive. You also assumed I second-guessed your intellect.” Regina smirks with a challenging look.

“Hey. No, I didn’t! It’s a common phrase. But I am smarty pants. The PhD speaks for itself.” Emma feels she earned the right to brag. She shuffled through the foster care system, faced homelessness more than once, transferred colleges, changed her major and wound up in an enormous amount of debt. After undergrad, Emma did not have an actual plan. She completed a major life moment and lacked fruition to see further ahead into her future. Graduate school definitely was not part of the plan. One of her undergraduate professors offered her a research assistant job during the summer and served as a mentor. She encouraged Emma into pursuing a PhD, pushing her on the professoriate track. Ten years later, Professor Emma Swan teaches History with a focus in Gender Studies at NYU.

Regina straightens her posture, investing even more interest in the woman across her. “Wow, a PhD. A doctor, huh?” She perhaps judged the book too harsh.

“Mhm. Eleven years of undergrad and graduate school combined. I’m not the most refined professor. But I think my students appreciate that.”

“Professor? Where are you teaching?”

“NYU. Two years. The last year of my trial run. It’s between my department and the board of trustees—if I’m staying or getting the boot.”

“Do you want to stay?” Regina cocks her head with the question.

Emma's mouth drops open a bit. She momentarily forgets Regina’s question, as she is too focused on the movements of her hair. “Huh? Oh. Umm…I’m not sure yet. I’ve applied to other colleges and universities. Some have invited me back. Once the university’s decision is made then I’ll make mine.” She softly chuckles and shakes her head. “Enough about me. What about you? Why is an attractive woman sitting alone with enough food for three people?”

A small smile tugs on the corners of her mouth. Emma’s compliment, though not unheard of, sounds different and innocent coming from her lips. “Hmm…well I have one more question for you. I never actually caught your name.”

“Oh. Jeez, my bad. Emma Swan. Nice to meet you again, Regina Mills.”

“All my pleasure. Answering your questions, I’m a food critic. It’s not a full-time job, but it keeps me sane.”

“You’re a lot cuter than most food critics. Even well-dressed.” Emma cringes. “I’m sorry.”

Regina’s smile comes alive once again. “It’s okay. I appreciate the compliment. How many other food critics do you know?”

Emma bites her lip out of embarrassment. “Anton Ego…”

“Sounds familiar.” Then the light bulb clicks. She cannot help but laugh loudly causing an unusual snort to escape her lips. “Please, excuse me. But isn’t that the critic from Ratatouille?”

“Yes...the compliment happened, but it didn’t make sense, because I don’t know other critics.” Emma slouches. She mumbles, “How’d you know?”

The words easily flow from Regina. She is not one for discussing her personal life, especially not with a complete stranger. Something about Emma soothes those anxieties. She cannot explain any of it. “I have a seven-year-old son. Henry. We’ve seen every Disney and Pixar movie. Multiple times.”

“Oh my gosh. I bet he’s a freaking cutie. How could I predict you were a food critic, a mom and an animated movie connoisseur? You’re a much better date than my blind date.” Emma’s cheeks start hurting from smiling. Even if she cared to stop it is becoming an impossible feat.

“As much as I am enjoying your company…” Regina drags her words when she notices the undeniable pout forming on Emma’s face. It’s the same look Henry produces every time the sitter comes. An unexpected weakness the woman tapped into. She instinctively reaches for her hand. “Oh, I’m not kicking you out. But you do have a waiting date. And I still haven’t tasted any of the food.” Both pairs of eyes scan the spread. Emma took a sample out of all the dishes. Regina does not mind. It’s rare she ever takes more than two bites.

Emma’s mind is scrambled. She hears Regina’s words, but she solely focuses on the sensation of their hands touching. The touch sparks more feeling than Emma’s experienced in a long time. Who cares about Graham? She will stay with Regina until the restaurant kicks them out. But Emma does not say that. No, instead she says, “Of course. Thank you for letting me crash.”

Regina swallows thickly. Emma accepting their fate bruises her heart. If the woman boldly declined, then she would not hold any objections. None of her work is completed but the usual self-deprecating thoughts come and go. She is more focused on her unexpected date. Emma made her laugh harder than anyone has. She never let Regina’s smart comments slide—even though   
Regina can tell Emma’s a little nervous. There are a million more conversations itching to happen. But obligations are obligations.

“Will you take my number?” Emma may have to leave, but Regina is not done with her yet.

Emma brightens up and nods. “Yes, of course. Please.” She scrambles for her purse but realizes it’s with Graham. Her actual date. “Umm…I don’t have my phone on me. I can give you mine?” Regina’s phone is already on the table. She unlocks it for the contact page then places it in the woman’s waiting palm. Emma gleefully types all her information; office number, cell phone, and email.

“Thank you. I look forward to talking again, Miss Swan.” Regina slides out from the booth—standing for the first time since meeting Emma.

Her date follows suit. “M-me too. Go easy on the restaurant. It’s my favorite spot for blind dates.” She bashfully remains on her side though Emma craves a simple hug goodbye.

“I’ll keep that in mind, Miss Swan.” Regina reads Emma’s facial expressions and posture, but she cannot find the answer she seeks. “Normally, I’d settle for a shake goodbye, but…” The words never come out of her mouth, because Emma is already wrapping her arms around the woman’s waist. She contentedly sighs and closes the hug.

Both of their bodies melt into the other’s. Their shared heights, even with heels, does not stop Emma from resting her cheek on Regina’s shoulder. She almost cries with joy when Regina tightens her arms, inevitably pulling her closer. It takes them off guard—the feelings of safety and intimacy—from a hug. They separate at the same time with small smiles.

“You know what, you can trash the restaurant.” Emma shrugs. “I’ve already had the most perfect blind date. I think it’s my last time here.”


End file.
